


like you mean it

by proprioception



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Car Sex, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proprioception/pseuds/proprioception
Summary: “You don’t sound sorry,” Roman says. “Does he sound sorry to you?” He looks pointedly at Dinah.She glares back at him. “No, he doesn’t,” she agrees spitefully, meeting Victor’s eyes.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 110





	like you mean it

**Author's Note:**

> here's something fun and short and frivolous because it wasn't doing anyone any good just lying around in my docs

Victor’s eyes roll back and Roman’s gloved hand clapping over his mouth is the only thing that keeps a full moan from slipping out. 

“Be good,” Roman murmurs in his ear, in that peculiarly threatening cheery tone. He continues to run his other hand lightly along Victor’s crotch, coaxing his dick to full hardness in a matter of seconds with remarkably little effort. 

Roman chuckles and releases Victor’s mouth just as he stops feeling him up. Victor spreads his legs petulantly and glares at Roman.

“How long, little bird?” Roman calls up front, popping the fragile bubble of their illusion of privacy.

Victor thunks his head against the headrest in a steady beat until Roman’s hand is back between his legs, cupping his balls gently.

“Uh, almost there, boss.” Dinah’s eyes flick between Roman and Victor in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. Victor catches her looking again a few seconds later and grins smugly. Her expression turns into a glare with no particular discernible change and she looks back at the road.

“That could mean anything,” Roman breathes into Victor’s ear, slinging his arm along the back of the seat. “She’s afraid of upsetting me.” He traces the outline of Victor’s dick through his pants, shoved sideways along the crease of his thigh. “We could have ten minutes, or we could have two.” Roman gives him a squeeze and he whimpers. 

Victor freezes, the panic of a cockroach illuminated thrilling in his stomach. His eyes dart to the rearview mirror, where Dinah’s dark eyes are trained on him. He can’t even make a cheeky face at her; Roman’s literally got him by the balls and the hot breath on his neck is monopolizing the rest of his attention.

Roman clicks his tongue. “Well, now we don’t have privacy, do we?” He sighs loudly. “I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Lance.”

Dinah just looks briefly at Roman, then at Victor, then back at the road. She shrugs. “Whatever, boss.” Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and as always, Victor can’t decide whether she looks sultry or murderous.

Roman curls his arm around Victor’s neck, pulling him closer. “Guess she doesn’t mind,” he purrs. He slides his gloved hand down the inseam of Victor’s slacks and back up, bunching them uncomfortably around his erection.

“Guess not,” Victor growls, his voice rattling around in his throat like gravel in an empty can. He gasps when Roman bites his neck and rubs his crotch. “Fuck,” he moans, his hips twitching into it automatically.

He’s vaguely aware of Dinah’s eyes boring holes into his—she’s definitely glaring—but it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Roman. Victor feels like Roman is flaunting him, and it’s intoxicating. He likes feeling needed, but he _loves_ being bragged about. His lungs catch on it, and his dick pulses with it. He whimpers, and this time he’s not even embarrassed.

Roman licks his neck and breathes on it, and Victor knots a hand in his perfect hair, swearing. “Roman! Fuck!”

Roman tries to pull away, and when Victor’s grip on his hair stops him short, his smirk twists into a grimace. He pins Victor by the throat to the back of the seat until he lets go and growls in his ear, “My things!”

“Sorry, boss,” Victor gasps when Roman’s hand falls to his side.

“You don’t sound sorry,” Roman says. “Does he sound sorry to you?” He looks pointedly at Dinah. 

She glares back at him. Roman doesn’t seem to notice, or realize it’s not just her normal expression. Victor wants to cut that stupid fucking resting bitch face right off. He knows—can’t prove, but _knows_ —that Roman only has his little bird as far as he can throw her. And Victor’s worried that Roman doesn’t know exactly how far that is. Victor does, and it’s not much farther. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Dinah agrees spitefully, meeting Victor’s eyes. They scowl at each other until Roman squeezes his arm around Victor’s neck. 

“Apologize like you mean it.”

Victor forgets all about Dinah. He looks over at Roman, trying to gauge the violence and playfulness of his mood. He senses a bit of both, so he treads carefully. He reaches over and palms Roman’s crotch, relieved to find him hard. He squeezes lightly and murmurs, “Sorry, boss.”

“Mmm, cute,” Roman says with a saccharine smile. “Try harder.”

Victor turns and presses his lips to Roman’s, kisses his way down his throat. “‘M so sorry,” he growls, the burr in his throat very real. 

“Warmer,” Roman says. He sounds smug, but his voice is scraping the edges of his throat. 

Victor sinks his teeth into Roman’s neck and he yelps. Victor feels his cock pulse in his palm. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, boss,” Victor drawls. 

Roman stills. “Are you fucking _sassing_ me right now, Victor?”

Victor backpedals while trying not to look like that’s what he’s doing. “What?” he asks stupidly. “Of course not! I wouldn’t.”

Roman grabs Victor by the jaw. “I think you would,” he purrs into Victor’s ear. Victor shivers violently at the buzz of lips. Then Roman’s hot breath is gone and Victor can breathe again, barely. He drags in a lungful of air with effort, only for Roman to knock it back out of him as he undoes his pants and leans over him, pressing kisses to his cock through his underwear. 

“Roman,” Victor says, but even he’s not sure where he’s going with it. He means, “She’s right there,” and, “Please don’t stop,” and, “Fuck, that feels good,” and, “How hard are you?” and, “Swear you only do this with me.” He means so many things that Roman can’t possibly know what he means, but the knowing, eyelash-screened look Roman gives him makes Victor wonder. 

Roman gets his dick out and slips it into his wicked mouth. Victor goes stiff and wide-eyed, eyes locked helplessly on Dinah’s in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t know how this could possibly be a reprimand. Dinah takes the opportunity to flip him off. Victor’s voice finally starts working as Roman starts bobbing his head, and he groans.

Roman doesn’t fuck around. He knows how to get Victor off, and suddenly it’s show and tell. He pulls Victor’s foreskin all the way back, to the point of discomfort, and sucks on him hard. He tweaks Victor’s nipples and scratches down his ridged chest. Victor’s voice grinds in his chest like a dime in a disposal as Roman’s nails catch on every scar all the way down his torso. His back arches involuntarily when Roman curls a hand around his throat and squeezes. 

“Jesus fuck,” Victor growls, and comes. 

Or starts to. His orgasm ignites and it’s like cresting the peak of a roller coaster and—fuck fuck fuck—it’s fizzling, because Roman’s mouth is gone and his hands are gone. It’s both too late and too early. Victor’s cock pulses pitifully, underwhelmingly, even as Roman starts laughing. Victor has never been unsure whether he’s come before, but he’s definitely watching cum slide down his abandoned cock. 

Victor realizes his mouth is open in shock and his face is cramping on a snarl. “You piece of fucking shit,” he hisses. 

Roman stops cackling and raises his eyebrows and Victor’s stomach twists. He’s fucked up. 

“What did you just call me?” Roman asks quietly. 

Victor shakes his head. “Nothing, boss, I’m sorry.”

“And we’ve come full circle,” Roman says, smirking. “More apologies. Keep it up, Victor, and you’ll never have a good orgasm again.”

Victor hiccups out a dry little sob at the idea of Roman ever doing that to him again, let alone repeatedly. “No, boss, I mean it this time.”

Roman grabs Victor by the throat again and pins him back against the seat. “Do you, now?” he snarls right into Victor’s ear. 

Canary is smirking in the rearview like the cat didn’t get her, and Victor can only glare in impotent outrage. 

“Yes, boss,” Victor pants. He breaks eye contact with Dinah before whining, utterly sincere and hopefully pitiful enough to mollify Roman, “Please.”

Roman’s eyes remain flinty, but his grip on Victor’s throat loosens. “Watch your fucking mouth, Zsasz,” he says.

There’s a long, throbbing beat of silence. Victor doesn’t know if this is part of their game or not. He’s not even sure what game that is, just that most of what they do together is fun. 

Dinah clears her throat. “Here, boss,” she says, and Victor realizes the voice clearing wasn’t rhetorical; her voice is frayed and husky. 

Roman lets go of Victor and hops out of the car. “Why, thank you, Miss Lance.” When he realizes Victor has made no move to clean up or put his dick away, he frowns and snaps his fingers. “Victor, let’s go.”

Victor looks around him for something to clean up with and Dinah turns to hand him a wad of napkins from the glovebox. “Better not get that on my seats.” She gives his wilting dick a withering look, but turns back around and turns the music up by the time Victor thinks to cover himself. 

Roman is apparently confident that Victor will eventually join him, and flounces into the building, leaving his two pets to bicker. 

Victor glares at Dinah in the rearview. She smirks back. 

“What?” Victor demands. 

Canary just shakes her head, grinning wryly. “Jesus, y’all nasty.” Victor opens his mouth, but then Dinah’s eyes, ambiguously heavy-lidded, flash back up at him. “But that was hot.”


End file.
